


Dinner and a (Shit)Show

by c0cunt



Series: EreJean Week 2016 [4]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Erejean Week 2016, M/M, Meeting the Parents, POV First Person, POV Jean Kirstein
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 09:22:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6464776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c0cunt/pseuds/c0cunt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean hasn't brought home anyone he's dated before, since none of his relationships tended to last more than a few months.  So bringing home Eren to meet Maman and Papa is setting his nerves on edge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to my buddy [Kai](http://mihaelkai.tumblr.com/) for helping me think of the title<3

  I know I shouldn’t have been nervous about taking Eren home for the first time.  Yeah, we were dating for six months, but I’d had Maman and Papa both on my back since about the third month mark to get to meet him...Well, sometimes Maman and Papa can really overdo things.  Couldn’t really blame them for it though:  As their only child, and growing up with maybe two or three friends at most until I went off to college, they were super protective.  Plus, I had never had someone who I spoke about with them before as much as Eren (maybe Marco, but he was never even thought of as being a potential boyfriend in my mind), and I hadn’t ever dated someone for longer than three months...So meeting Eren was a huge deal, and I could already hear my mom clicking her tongue disapprovingly as Eren met me in the hallway outside our bedroom in his permanently mud-stained jeans and rumbled (obviously not ironed) striped polo.

  “Seriously Eren, they’re gonna be basically like sharks,” I warned as I fretted over his clothes, pulling him back into our bedroom and digging into our closet for something that Papa wouldn’t frown over.  Eren’s clothes would’ve been perfectly fine if we were just going out to eat somewhere like we sometimes splurged for on the weekends we both had off...Maman had said that it would just be a casual dinner, though I could already see the disapproving looks in my mind’s eye, and couldn’t let that happen.  It would be anything but casual tonight, though, they were going to be judging my boyfriend, and there was no way I’d let anything I could sort of control give my parents a negative impression.

  “You ain’t dressed much different…” Eren grumbled under his breath, picking at the knee of his jeans as if that could get those damn stains out.  (Trust me, nothing could, we had gone through probably two bottles of OxyClean before giving up completely.  Eren usually wears these particular ruined pair of jeans exclusively for when we’re gardening in the little backyard, but somehow he’d decided that it was appropriate to wear to dinner with  _ my parents _ .)  Also, Eren’s observation is completely inaccurate:  I may be wearing jeans, but they’re not  _ worn _ and  _ muddy _ like the pair he’d thrown on.  And my polo had been  _ ironed _ at least.  I dug out Eren’s one pair of khakis, knowing that at least Maman would approve of that, and tried to find a shirt of his that wasn’t:

 

  1. An old band shirt full of holes,
  2. Not one of his many skirts.  As cute as he looks in them, Papa would probably have a heart attack if he knew his son’s boyfriend wore skirts (and encouraged his son to wear them too.  And fuck yeah I look good in them),
  3. Wrinkled all to hell (since we didn’t have time to drag the ironing board out right now), or
  4. About two washes away from being turned into a dishrag.



 

  I was desperately fighting a losing battle, instead making a huge pile of shirts that we’d have to iron later instead of anything that could be worn tonight.  Eren did at least put on the khakis that I pulled out for him, watching amusedly as I kept rummaging.  “Y’know, love, you’re just gonna wrinkle everything more if you keep doing that,” Eren remarked as I roughly shoved all of his clothes in the closet to one side so I could go through them again.  I huffed at him (well, more at his clothes as I squished my way into the closet) (all the jokes that Connie would be shouting if he could see me…) instead of actually acknowledging that yes, I knew that.  But there had to be at least  _ one thing _ that Eren owned that wasn’t a wrinkled piece of shit that Maman and Papa would approve of!

  “Do you own anything that isn’t a piece of shit, Eren?”  I called out to him as I leaned against the closet wall, feeling utterly defeated.  Eren hummed at me slightly, but didn’t disagree with me, which was probably smart on his part.  I dragged my hand over my face and up into my hair, only realizing that I was messing it up when I heard the slight  _ crunch _ of hair gel, and sat down on the closet floor in despair.  Maman and Papa were going to think I was dating a hobo, and would never approve of Eren.  Which sounds like a really stupid thing to be agonizing over, but I  _ really _ like Eren, and I  _ really _ want Maman and Papa to approve of him.  I’m not entirely sure how long I sat on the closet floor, staring at nothing and wondering how to get my parents to approve of my goddamn hobo boyfriend, when Eren cleared his throat.

  “Jean?  You said we’d have to leave by 4:30, and it’s already 4:15...Figured I should let you know, since you didn’t take your phone into the closet with you…”  Eren trailed off, and I let out a low groan as I let myself slump towards my side of the closet.  In that second, I realized that I hadn’t even been utilizing all of our resources, and dug through the small shelving unit in the corner of rarely worn clothes that I had, for something presentable that Eren could squeeze into.  I came across the perfect thing:  One of my older sweater vests, that I’d accidentally stretched because I misread the care instructions.  It was still as soft as I remembered it being, and I knew that the dark burgundy color would look good with one of Eren’s white button ups against his tan skin...It was perfect.  I jumped to my feet and quickly looked through Eren’s button up shirts, finding the whitest one with the smallest amount of stains and tears in it, and prayed to whatever god that was listening that these clothes would fit.

  “Eren, get dressed!” I shouted, launching myself out of the closet at the same time that Eren had started to come forward again to check on me.  I crashed into him, full speed, and we slammed into the hardwood floor, Eren nearly hitting his head on our bed’s baseboards.  We laid there, dazed for a minute, before I shook myself into action and stood up.  “C’mon, hurry up,” I pleaded, tossing the clothes I’d picked for him over my shoulder as I pulled him to his feet.  Eren squinted up at me as though he wanted to say something about how nervous I was, but he shrugged it (as well as his polo shirt) off, getting dressed just as I had commanded.  I breathed a quick thank you before spinning to face the mirror and trying my best to fix my hair; Eren’s hair was a lost cause, but his at least  _ looked _ like it was supposed to be a mess.  Behind me, there was the shuffling of clothing, and soon I had a warm arms wrapped around my waist, and Eren’s chin on my shoulder.

  “It’s gonna go fine, Jean,” Eren mumbled before pressing his face against my neck.  I sighed and ruffled his hair as I grumbled “I fuckin’ hope so.”  I glanced at the clock and nearly jumped out of my skin; it was 4:32, and we were  _ gonna be late fuck! _

  “Shit!  Eren, fuck, we gotta go!”  I scrambled for my keys, and nearly flew out of our bedroom.  It wasn’t until I was halfway down the hall that I remembered everything else I was supposed to bring with me (shoes would probably be a good idea).  I groaned and started to double back, sighing thankfully when Eren handed me the shoes I had planned on wearing.

  “I got your phone, your wallet’s in your front pocket, I put the wine that you wanted to give your parents in the car earlier, and we shouldn’t need anything else,” Eren listed off as he squeezed down the hall past me as I struggled with my shoes.  He stopped to drop a quick kiss on the top of my head before going to wait for me by the front door, even though I was only three stumbling steps behind him.  I just hoped that everything really would be okay tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

  By the time we pulled up to my parents’ house, I was already panicking again.  Driving usually relaxed me, and having Eren’s thumb rubbing soothing circles into my right hand as it rested on the gear shift tended to make me even more relaxed...But holy shit, how could I relax tonight?  Maman and Papa were going to be meeting  _ Eren _ for the first time.  I was practically quaking in my shoes, and even though Eren pretended to be relaxed for my sake, I could see the way his shoulders tensed up every few seconds before forcing himself to loosen up.  He was trying to be relaxed for my sake, which almost made me want to snort.  It was winding me up that he was acting so casual about the whole thing, but it was a bit reassuring that he wasn’t as calm as he pretended to be.

  I fumbled with the gear shift to get the car parked, respectfully to one side of the driveway like Papa had always said to park as a guest at someone else’s house.  I noticed a curtain in the living room flutter a tiny bit, and couldn’t help a smile as Eren and I left the car.  It was most definitely Maman, anxious to get a peek at Eren before we had made it to the front door.  Eren shifted anxiously as he waited for me to walk around the car to his side, clutching the wine I’d picked out for us to bring as if he were about to whack someone in the head with it.  I couldn’t help laughing at that image, Eren brandishing a wine bottle like a baseball bat before brushing his sweater vest off and sitting down for dinner with us.  Eren made a face at me for laughing, snatching up my hand in his as I led the way up to the front door.

  I hesitated before knocking, turning to face Eren.  He almost looked slightly sick, paler than usual, but he attempted to smile weakly at me.  I squeezed his hand and leaned down for a quick kiss, mumbling “Why’re we worried, they’re gonna love you” against his lips.  Eren breathed out a laugh, and gave me an actual smile as I turned to ring the doorbell.  We didn’t have to wait long before Maman threw the front door open vigorously.

  “Jeanbo!  You’re finally here!”  Maman’s voice boomed jovially, and I was wrenched forward into a bone crushing hug.  If I didn’t know exactly what to expect, I would’ve probably been crushed, but I’d been receiving hugs from Maman like this since I was ten years old.  I was a regular pro at handling Maman’s bear hugs.  I wheezed and tried my best to hug her back, until eventually she put me down.  

  “Maman, this is my boyfriend Eren,” I said, tugging Eren a little bit closer by the loose cuff of his button up shirt.  Eren had a sparkling smile on his face that rivaled the smile he had used to pick me up in the bar when we first met.  Maman smiled at him, but it didn’t reach her eyes the way her smiles normally did, and it set me on edge immediately, especially as her eyes flickered back and forth between him and myself.  Eren either didn’t notice or ignored it as he spoke.

  “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Kirschstein.  Thank you so much for inviting us for dinner.”  Eren lifted up the bottle of wine he was still carrying, diverting Maman’s critical gaze from him to the bottle.  Her eyes lit up slightly as she recognized the label of her prefered wine, before offering Eren her hand.

  “Eren, it’s a pleasure to finally meet Jeanbo’s boyfriend.  That’s a lovely vest you’re wearing,” Maman complimented, but her eyes flashed me a frosty glare even as she held her smile in place while shaking Eren’s hand.  That’s when it hit me like a ton of bricks:  I had kept that sweater vest in particular because it had been a birthday present two years ago, and Maman had said it looked lovely on me as well.  Maman knew that at least the vest wasn’t Eren’s own clothes.  She probably thought he couldn’t dress himself properly and that I had had to pick clothes out for him.  (Which, this time, I had to, the poor idiot was going to wear  _ muddy jeans _ to meet my parents in!)  I rearranged my anxious look as best I could into something much happier, at least until what Eren was saying reached my ears.

  “Thank you so much Mrs. Kirschstein!  I had asked Jean what he thought looked best, and when he said I didn’t look like a hobo in this...Well,” Eren let out a nervous laugh, high pitched and anxious.  I wanted the ground to swallow us both, Maman looking at both of us unreadably before leading us both inside.  “Did I say something wrong?”  Eren whispered to me when Maman’s back had turned.  I almost wanted to cry.

  “Yeah, you could’ve kept out the hobo part, you idiot,” I hissed back.  Maman led us to the living room, and Papa looked up from his newspaper (probably disguising the comics as the business section, just like he used to when I was younger), a bright grin spreading across his face.

  “Jeanbo, there you are!  And your boyfriend, Eren, right?  And what’s this about hobos I’m hearing?”  Papa’s accent was much lighter than I remembered it being growing up, but was definitely still there.  Before I could say anything, Eren pipped up.

  “Hello Mr. Kirschstein!  We were just saying how Jean was so worried about bringing me here looking like a hobo, that he even picked out what I was going to wear tonight.”  Eren said it so casually, that Papa didn’t even seem to see anything wrong with what Eren had said, until he saw the look on Maman’s face.  Whatever god that had allowed Eren to fit into my old sweater vest was definitely laughing at me.  Tonight was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *jazz hands into the distance*  
> Enjoy I'm done with EreJean week this year, thank you, goodnight


End file.
